


Another Line to Define

by Jaelijn



Series: A Heart to Hold [3]
Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Asexual Avon, Asexual Character, Asexuality, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, M/M, Misunderstandings, Season/Series 02, Somewhere in between, Spoilers for Pressure Point, also allusions to Gambit, they are very vague but better don't read it before watching up to that ep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-08-10 01:08:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7824259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaelijn/pseuds/Jaelijn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vila persuades Avon to accompany him on a leisurely pursuit on the <i>Liberator</i>. Along the way, wires get crossed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Line to Define

**Author's Note:**

> Another little moment for my series based on the headcanon that Avon is on the asexual spectrum. All instalments are enjoyable as standalones or in sequence.
> 
> This one is a little more serious, and the topic of consensuality comes up, so there are faint allusions to situation in which it wasn't respected, but really nothing beyond allusions, and certainly not between the characters of the show, let alone those in the fic.
> 
> As always, all titles of this series are inspired by lyrics of [Poets of the Fall](http://poetsofthefall.com/) (who are rebuilding their website atm).
> 
> Please enjoy! :)

“Avon, come _on_!”

“No.”

Vila wouldn’t be Vila if gave up just like that. “Just once?”

“Not even once.” Avon didn’t even scowl at _him_ , he was frowning down on the exposed circuit before him, the probe in his hand hovering indecisively.

“You’ll enjoy it, I promise!”

Avon put the probe down, a vaguely threatening edge creeping into his voice. “Vila…”

“I _know_ you’d love it.”

“Do you now.” Avon’s dark eyes finally fixed on Vila’s face and he leant back, folding his arms. “What, I wonder, gave you that idea.”

“What idea?” came Blake’s voice, the rebel stepping deftly into the computer central and coming up behind Vila. He looked, as always when he found Vila talking with Avon, both casually inquisitive and faintly suspicious. Vila thought that was entirely unjustified, really. After all, they had been back from Freedom City before Blake had called for teleport, so he had no reason to assume that they were constantly up to something. Even if they were – or would be, if Avon could manage to unbend just a little for a change.

Avon picked up the probe again, holding Vila’s gaze for just a moment before he turned it on Blake. “Nothing of any consequence to your Cause, and therefore none of your business.”

That, of course, did nothing to settle Blake’s suspicions. “What are you up to now, Vila?”

Avon smirked and turned his attention back to his work, leaving Vila to fend for himself. Vila saw his chance to get back at him, and took it. “I was just trying to convince Avon to share his cooking skills with us,” he said, not looking away from Avon so Blake wouldn’t see the mirth shining in his eyes. He couldn’t have missed the clatter of the probe as Avon dropped it, startled, even if he had been looking at Blake.

Blake, for his part, was looking increasingly puzzled. “I didn’t know you could cook, Avon.”

“Oh, but he can!” Vila prattled, before Avon had a chance to protest. “I saw him fixing a lunch the other day – it was impressive!”

Avon was glaring at him, Vila could feel it, but now there was no harm in grinning at Blake – Blake was entirely focussed on Avon. “We could all use some more variety in our menu.”

“That’s what I said,” Vila jumped in. “And it’s true, too. I’m so tired of Jenna’s stew; I’d rather eat protein cubes.” That, at least, was no lie. The _Liberator_ ’s processed food was well and good for staying alive, but it had been programmed for an alien palate, and there had been only so much Avon could do – nor had he been particularly inclined to spend much time on it, with so many more vital systems to study and learn how to fix. While Vila was grateful that Avon would be able to repair the life support systems if they broke down and the auto-repair didn’t cut it, it also meant that they had to make do with shapeless, protein-based lumps that were doubtlessly nutritious but decidedly _not_ tasty, or cook from whichever fresh food they managed to pick up in between Blake’s missions. There was often only so much you could do with that. Vila was used to the artificial foodstuff – it was all you could get in the Delta sections of the domes, really – but he’d also made a living out of breaking into houses where there were valuables, and those weren’t always gemstones and credit chips. He couldn’t remember when he’d last seen something like an apple, and he was frankly surprised that Avon and Blake, both originally Earth-based Alphas, seemed to cope with the situation so well. Then again, Avon was probably living off coffee, and Blake’s head had been turned over so often, who knew if he had any taste left.  

Avon’s scowl was icy, and still fixed firmly on Vila. “Then why don’t you do all of us a favour and eat those protein cubes instead of harassing me?”

“Avon, it doesn’t have to be a regular occurrence,” Blake said, sounding quite reasonable. “Just once in a while, when you feel like it, you might want to share whatever you make with the rest of us.”

Avon bristled, slamming the probe down onto the open console. “I won’t _cook_ for your rabble, Blake! This discussion is closed. Now what did you want?”

Blake blinked at the vehemence of the outburst, but stood his ground. He folded his arms and tactfully dropped the subject: “Orac – I wanted to consult some files in the Federation database. Do you need him?”

Avon shook his head and waved a careless hand at Orac, sitting on the floor by the main computer bank. “Take it; I’m nearly finished here anyway. And take Vila with you when you go.”

Blake went to gather up Orac with an expression of fond exasperation, and moved back to the door. “Coming, Vila?”

“Just a moment,” Vila said, and waited until Blake’s steps had faded in the hallway before turning his smug grin back on Avon. “Imagine that, Avon cooking for us.”

Avon sighed, more amused than angry now that they were on their own. “I don’t think you or Blake would appreciate the results.” He pulled the panel over the circuits again, and Vila leant against it.

“You’ll give it a try, won’t you?”

“Cooking? I’d rather not.”

“You know what I meant.”

“We have no idea what the room was originally intended for. Merely because you and Gan decided to appropriate it for your own purposes doesn’t mean it is safe to use. For all we know, it could be a large kettle.”

“You checked with Zen before we flooded it, didn’t you?” Vila had got Avon to do it, back when they’d first found the room – hexagonal, with an equally shaped depression in the middle. The hollow had gently sloping sides and was just large and deep enough for a nice swim, and it was connected to a self-cleaning water tank. The arrangement wasn’t like any pool Vila had ever seen, and the temperature gauge went up way too high, but his experience with pools was limited to what he had seen in nightly break-ins, and Avon had got Zen to put an upper limit on the temperature. Vila wouldn’t have got into the pool otherwise. He wasn’t a stellar swimmer, and being boiled alive sounded decidedly unpleasant. But the warm water had done wonders for Gan’s frequent headaches, and Vila found lounging about in the shallows with a glass of soma incredibly relaxing after one of Blake’s raids. At least, it drove the tension out of his muscles. And after Gan… well, Vila hadn’t wanted to go alone, a niggling fear of drowning without anyone around to notice, and he had missed it desperately. Unwinding in the recreation room or in his cabin was nice, but not as relaxing. He had even acquired scented bath salts, supposed to be “calming” and “anxiety and stress reducing”. 

“Of course I did,” Avon said, “but there is every chance of accidentally triggering a function we haven’t even noticed yet.”

“Me and Gan never did. You’re not scared of water, are you? I bet you had a pool, back on Earth.”

Avon calmly collected the tools he’d been using and that had spread out over the console, and slid them back into the little cloth envelop in which he carried them. Clearly, Vila had no luck with his baiting, not this time. “You are, though, aren’t you”, Avon mused, “that’s why you want me to come with you.”

Vila was never happy when Avon could read him so well, but it was the truth. “I’m not the best swimmer. No place to practice in the domes, you see.”

“Very well, since you won’t leave me in peace otherwise.” Avon rose, stretching out his muscles.

“You’ll come?”

“ _Once_ , Vila, no more. And don’t expect me to splash about in the water with you.”

“Aw, Avon, you’d enjoy it!”

“I will be _working_ , but you wouldn’t understand that concept, would you.”

“Fine. But you’ll come?”

“Yes. Now go, before Blake comes back to find out where you disappeared to.”   

 

Vila didn’t see Avon again until after his shift on the flight deck when he went down to knock on Avon’s cabin. His own was just next door, and he would just let Avon know he was ready before fetching his bathing things.

Avon, when he opened the door, looked incredibly tired for a moment before he straightened his back and frowned, his customary indifference sliding back into place. “What is it, Vila?” Vila was sure he hadn’t awakened Avon, but he was also sure that he _should_ have been sleeping while Vila was on shift – Avon’s would start just after Jenna finished hers, and he’d gone from his last shift straight to the computer central where Vila had found him in the afternoon. Or, well, what felt like the afternoon for Vila. Time in space was extraordinarily strange, and even the months on the _London_ hadn’t been enough to get Vila used to it. On the _Liberator_ , they each had their own schedule, unless they were all needed on the flight deck for one of Blake’s missions.

Vila almost backed down then – Avon, when he didn’t have enough sleep, was even less pleasant than an Avon who had. But Avon beat him to it.

“Oh yes, you wanted to bathe.”

“Not if it’s a bad time – I just thought you’d want to get it over with?”

“ _Any_ time will be an inconvenience, Vila. Now fetch your things.” Avon stepped back into his room, the door whizzing shut in Vila’s face.

Vila unlocked his own cabin, troubled. He’d wanted to relax a bit, but with Avon giving off the tension in waves, he wondered if it was even worth going down to the pool. He _knew_ Avon could relax and unwind just like the rest of them – he’d certainly seen it in Freedom City, before he’d had a drink or two too many and things had got a bit out of hand – and Avon had a decent sense of humour, even if he had no time for puns and riddles. But Avon, tired and coerced into something he claimed to want no part in in the first place – that was usually Blake’s domain. Vila didn’t like Avon when he was like that. He liked his Avon relaxed and as friendly as Avon ever got. But perhaps, if he could get Avon to try the water….

Satisfied with the plan for now, Vila gathered up his things, and hurried back to Avon’s door. “All done!”

Avon opened his door again, appearing before Vila in the same shirt he’d worn a few minutes earlier, with a reader cradled under his arm and a set of datacubes clanking in his hand. He raised an eyebrow at Vila’s bundle of bathing things, but didn’t comment. “Go on then.”

Vila had always found it easy to fall in step with Avon, but it felt strange to be the one with a purpose while Avon was just trailing along – usually, it would be the other way around, until a lock needed opening. Not that Avon couldn’t get most locks open himself with enough time and the right tools, Vila could freely admit as much, but Vila simply was considerably _faster_. There was something odd, too, about seeing Avon in a shirt, out in public – of course they had all seen more than enough of each other on the _London_ , in all the various stages of undress the prison overalls allowed. But even with the _Liberator_ ’s considerable wardrobe, Avon hadn’t seemed the type for a simple loose button-down. That was really more Vila’s thing – not that colour, though. He preferred warm, earthy tones. But then, perhaps Avon had been relaxing – or trying and failing, if his tense shoulders were anything to go by. 

The pool room was down in the bowels of the ship, near the water tanks. The washing units in their cabins worked primarily with moisture rather than large quantities of running water – doubtless in the event of the artificial gravity failing – but in the pool, they could be fully submerged for once, and get properly clean. Vila appreciated the sensation of cleanliness, aside from the relaxing effect – it wasn’t as though Deltas were expected to be able to clean themselves properly, and so there were no proper facilities for it in the Delta sections, either. Vila had learned what little he knew of swimming in stealthy trips outside the domes, and by, quite literally, stumbling into a pool at an Alpha household he’d broken into. The house had been empty, or his horrified scream would certainly have woken the inhabitants. He hadn’t stolen anything that night.

When they arrived at the room, Avon cast a glance around the room, then made to lock the door, while Vila quickly set the computer controls as he’d always liked them. Soon, water was rising from the middle of the pool, and the air started to steam up. Vila had no interest in boiling, but a bit of warmth was nice. He spread out his towel on one of the recliners Gan and him had brought down from the recreation room – there were plenty – and pulled the scented salts from his pouch.

Avon, settling tensely onto the second chair, looked at the little bottles with something that might have been distaste. “What are those?”

“Just some bathing salts. They smell nice, and are good for the skin,” Vila explained readily, then frowned. “Gan didn’t know what they were, but I thought you’d recognise them.”

Avon made no reply, but kept watching as Vila selected one of the salts and slipped off his shoes to pat towards the rising water and sprinkle some of the salt on the deck. It would soon be submerged, and the current of the flooding water would disperse it nicely.

Vila returned to the seats, stripping quickly, and glanced back at the computer controls. Not long, and the pool would be filled and the water level would stabilise. Already, the scent of lavender was rising in the air – it was Vila’s favourite, a very subtle smell, flowery and relaxing.

Beside him, Avon sighed and slipped off his own boots and socks, crossing his legs at the ankle.

Vila turned to grin at him. “Sure you won’t join me?”        

“No, thank you.”

“Your loss.” Vila clambered up from the recliner, stepping over Avon’s somewhat carelessly discarded boots – it was odd, that. Vila had been wondering whether Avon went to sleep with his boots, as attached as he sometimes seemed to them. Vila would often much rather be barefoot. Perhaps he’d misjudged Avon in that, too.

He padded into the pool slowly, letting the water swirl around his ankles for a while before he waded slightly deeper and crouched down. The water had the faintest violet hue, and really was wonderfully warm. Vila leant back onto his elbows, watching the liquid slush over his belly-button with each exhale. Oh, it had been far too long.

“Zen! Heat up the room a bit, would you?” He called out without thinking, and nearly jumped out of his skin when a harsh “Countermand!” came from behind him.

Vila craned his neck to look at Avon. He could only just make out the other man’s scowl through the steamy haze. “What’s wrong with a bit of warmth?”

“It’s quite warm enough already.”

“For you, maybe, sitting there fully clothed!”

 “Vila…”

“Please? I don’t know when I get to come down here again. Just this once? The door’s locked, anyway.”

Avon set down his reader with an exasperated sigh. “I am too tired for this. Out with it, Vila, what are you trying to achieve?”

Completely puzzled, Vila rolled into his stomach, feeling the water dip into the small of his back. At least now he could look at Avon without cricking his neck, even if seeing Avon’s expression didn’t make his meaning any clearer. “What do you mean? I’m just trying to have a nice bath.”

Avon just stared at him for a long moment. Then, very deliberately, he said: “You really mean that, don’t you?”

“Of course I mean it! What else – oh.” Vila could almost hear the proverbial penny drop. “You thought – you thought me and Gan… we were _friends_ , not partners, not like that. Did everyone think we were having sex? Gan was… he was _mourning_.  Besides, I don’t know if he’d been interested, I never asked.”

“You surprise me,” Avon said dryly.

“What, because I never asked? Have I ever bothered you, eh? I might be a Delta, but we aren’t sex-crazed folk just there to keep the population level up with all the people the Federation murders each year!”

Avon sat up on the recliner. “I wasn’t suggesting that.”

“Look, Avon, there might be three people on this ship I’m attracted to, but Gan certainly wasn’t one of them!” Vila fought down an impulse to bite his tongue after the sentence was out – too late, far too late to take it back now. He hadn’t had any intentions by asking for Avon’s company, other than getting Avon to relax a little and to have friendly company. After all, they were well in the progress of establishing something between them, and Vila wasn’t stupid – he knew very well that being with Avon meant focussing on things other than sex, but he couldn’t claim he hadn’t been looking, hadn’t been fantasizing. And now the ideas he had dismissed so early on, when he figured out that Avon was asexual and that sex ranked very low on list of priorities – which was _fine_ – were flooding back. He had never intended to push them, never even indulged – he cared about _Avon_ , as a person, and Vila knew how important it was not to destroy this, but Avon…

Underneath the armour, Avon was _so_ broken, so suspicious, and Vila had known that his sexuality was a sensitive subject. Vila understood it, even – he was suspicious about people’s intentions when it came to tactility, too. He had _known_ to tread carefully with Avon, or risk alienating him so far that even their friendship would be broken beyond repair, because Avon had _trusted_ him.

Shocked, Vila watched as Avon stood and gathered up his datacubes. “I don’t think I want to listen to this.”

Vila knew he wouldn’t be able to stop him, not now. He’d crossed a line, like back when he’d insisted on the ‘Avon’s a machine’ jokes. But still, when Avon was busy at the lock, he let his mouth run away with him. “Would it really be that bad?”

Avon froze, shoulders tense under the steam-wet shirt. “What would?”

“Sticking with me? Continuing to be… a little more friendly? ”

“I’m not interested in sex, Vila.”

“And I wasn’t offering any! I don’t need to do that, not on the _Liberator_!” Enrage, Vila sat up, the water splashing. “I _know_ you won’t ever feel like I do. I like the occasional _consensual_ tumble, yes, but I’m not – it’s about being close, being _safe_ ; what is it about your grade that you immediately jump to _that_ , making everything so… just about a physical act, eh?”

Avon whirled around, anger sparking in his eyes. “ _I_ do not make things about _sex_! You really are a fool if you haven’t noticed that the Federation is inundated with sex, and runs on it, too! It is used as a _tool_ , Vila, not like gambling, which is allocated to the shady underbelly of the Terra Nostra – sex is _everywhere_!”

Vila stared at him. He couldn’t claim to have minded – well, he had minded when it was in _prison_ – but for all the things the Federation did, Vila had always found its openness for all sexual matters refreshing. He realised now, of course, that it was a trick, something to distract people from how horrible everything else was. But he had never realised how much it had bothered Avon, how _not having it_ might be more difficult in a society steeped in it than having it with any- and everyone.

“I don’t need sex, Avon. I like it, but I don’t mind not doing it. I’ve never pushed, have I? Told you I wouldn’t.” Vila swallowed, looking at Avon’s feet rather than his face. Avon hadn’t even paused to put his boots back on. “I mean I don’t want to presume. I’m just a Delta coward, eh? If you think that sex would be all I could possibly offer, or be after, we needn’t speak of this ever again. In fact, it’s probably best if we forget it happened, yes? I won’t mention it to anyone if you don’t.”

“Vila.”

Vila jerked his focus back to the present and suddenly Avon’s feet were moving towards him, and then Avon was crouching in the water in front of him, the liquid soaking into his fabric trousers.

“You fool,” Avon said, very softly, and Vila looked up at him, and found a smile there.

“You’re in the water,” he stated, not quite sure what to make of all this.

Avon glanced down for just a second, smile growing into a broader smirk. “You never fail to state the obvious, do you?” When he looked back up, his expression had gone serious again, but nowhere near menacing. In fact, Vila thought, he’d rarely seen Avon this unguarded. “You really do mean it, don’t you?”

Vila blinked, thrown by the sudden change in tone. “Of course I do. I’ve been reading up on the all old labels, too. I might not ever know what it feels like, but you can’t know what it feels like to be me either, so we’re even, eh? I’m only a simple thief; what have I got to gain from conning any of the people I’m stuck with?”

“Nothing at all,” Avon replied, his voice even.

“Right.”

“So the bath–”

“Just a bath. Truthfully, I was afraid _you_ ’d blow up one day or laugh in my face.”

“After letting you get this far? I suppose it seemed to you that I might stoop to such immature humour.” Avon scowled, but there was no anger or malice behind the expression. “You could try trusting me a little, Vila.”

Vila almost breathed a sigh of relief, finding himself suddenly on firm ground again. “You?” he exclaimed, not entirely seriously. “Never.”

“We have an understanding, then.” Avon smirked, and continued: “I didn’t cheat you out of your five million credits.”

“No. But that was money.”

“Exactly.”

Vila scanned Avon’s face carefully, trying to make sure that he’d got his meaning right. It wasn’t always easy with Avon. The mirth on Avon’s face was unmistakable, though, and Vila finally allowed himself to take a deep breath. “How about we start with this again”, Vila dragged his hand through the warm water, creating a soapy swirl, “without any of the ambiguity, and maybe a game of chess or two in private after?”

“That sounds…”

“Acceptable? Boring?”

Avon arched an eyebrow, but his eyes were gleaming. “I was going to say, _nice_.”

“Oh. That’s good, then. Now will you join me before the water gets cold?”

**Author's Note:**

> You might have noticed a couple of recurring lines - the reason being that this was an alternative scenario I had for establishing Avon as asexual, so if Vila repeats some thoughts from "A Bridge Between Us", that's because I moved them there directly from a draft of this fic. I decided to leave them in here, too, to ensure the fic still makes sense as standalone.


End file.
